Not that kind of pain
“Is this the section for not quite crew, but almost?” Jacy joked with the nun. She hadn’t told her yet about her change in assignment. "I, wait, what? Aren't you a member of the crew?" The group heading to the hospital left with a rev of the mule's engine. Ly turned back to Jacy with a interested look. From the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she'd seen the Captain, but with a second glance he was gone and Riley was relaying their orders. "Giu - see if we need any supplies in the med bay, if we do, message the captain, he'll be taking our supply run and scaring up some passengers or work." The nun chuckled, and touched Jacy's arm. "It looks like I have pressing work to do. May I come find you after to help you move your things, or pick up what you need? I wouldn't mind stretching my legs." Ly looked at herself and realized she was wearing the same disheveled clothes she'd found stuck in the back corner of the drawer in her room. If she were vain she might have begged for cuter clothes, yet the nun felt the slightest tug to want to look nice next to Jacy. After a beat, "I'll see you soon." As she walked to the medbay Ly felt something long lost stir in her chest. She was needed. She had a purpose in the living world. She was apart of something larger than herself. In the monastery, she had often felt lonely. Hours of meditation and prayer; even the chanting in tandem felt like it had been missing something. She had been fixed on a single point: enlightenment. But there was so much more in the altruism that followed when one truly learned to 'walk like your feet are kissing the Earth.' The whir of the engines winding down, the heat from the metal around her felt like a warm home, ordered and welcoming. The metallic taste in her throat was becoming familiar. This flying box of steel and it's crew were accepting her--and that's what it was. She hugged her arms as she realized she felt an acceptance she'd been longing for, even unknown to her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. In the medbay she found herself alone, and she let herself freely feel. The sobs came in rapid succession. Her hands steadying herself against the table, Lyen hung her head and gave in to the coming tears. The connection was more than she could bear, strangers who had trusted her with their hearts, their care, even their sight. And it wasn't the people, but the lack of people she was suddenly grieving. Ten years of friendly faces on personal journeys that took them in and out of her life. Ten years of her own personal journey that should lead to enlightenment some day. The Eight Divisions and taught her what not to do, how to give up what she had. Should she it as selfish to feel like she had a home on the Lunar Veil? Lyen stifled the tears as best she could, waiting for the wave to subside, the moment to pass and perspective to offer another solution to the pang of pain.